In Which A Bag of Cold Peas is Romantic--Or, How Pussy Got A Prisoner
by neatgraves
Summary: (Bookverse) Set right after Pussy fends off Silky String, she is sitting on the sidewalk contemplating her life choices when she meets a gentlemanly young man who can't be her sugar daddy, but CAN offer something better. (Only rated T because of Pussy's, um, profession)


**I know I haven't posted for a looong time - don't be mad D': - but it is because I have been bUSY READING EVEN MORE BOOKS! This book (** **Breakfast on Pluto** **), and the movie, has become one of my all-time favorites, which is a hard thing to do, and I just** ** _had_** **to write a short fanfiction on it, dahh-lings!**

Patrick "Pussy" Braden sat on the pavement, breathing heavily and swallowing hard, trying to get the taste of Silky String out of her mouth although it made her throat ache. The string had made a nasty bruise, and some blood stained her beautiful blouse, wrinkled and tattered. The streetlights lighting her face, she began to cry. Usually an optimist, Pussy was scared. Her heart was beating a mile a minute she couldn't for the life of her even begin to stand.

"Are you okay?"

A deepish voice, that is, a deep voice that was striving to be deeper, came into Pussy's ears and she looked up to see a man in faded denim pants and a bomber jacket. Wait no — not a man, Pussy realized. A woman, but only in what was in her pants.

"No, I am most certainly not." Pussy's pain came out as anger. "Fucking Silky String and all I wanted was a good fuck and maybe some money..." She started to sob again.

"Someone hurt you?" The man — because by now, Pussy could tell it was a person like her, only opposites — had a walking stick, and he used it to push up Pussy's chin to see the nasty marks there. She pushed the steel-tipped cane away and kept her head down. She hardly wanted anyone to see her like undone in this way.

"No shit!" She cried.

"Well." The man sat beside Pussy. "Here. Let me see." Pussy looked up into the young man's face and he gently wiped the blood from her purple and black neck. "That's better. You'll stain all your lovely clothes."

"You..." Pussy sniffed. "You think they're lovely?"

The man leaned closer. "Listen. I know what it is that you do, and I know you're looking for someone with money. That, I don't have, darling. But if you're looking for somewhere safe to stay...aye, that's my business."

Pussy gave the last gasps of sobs. "I want that. I need a s-safe place."

"Then come with me. No one will hurt you, I promise. My name is Simheil. You can call me Harry."

"You sound almost Irish."

"Around there. Around everywhere, I've been." Harry answered. He held up his walking stick as a handhold to help Pussy to her feet. "What's your name, lady?"

"Paddy P — Pussy."

"Beautiful name, darling."

Together, they started on their way.

"Why've you got that?" Pussy asked after a few seconds. The _step, tap, step, tap_ of Harry's walking stick had gotten her attention.

"In an accident." Harry turned and gave Pussy a look. "I was lynched."

"You must have lived in a small town, Harry darling."

Harry nodded, but his eyes were far-off like he was thinking of something else way away. They got to an apartment, up a flight of stairs, and by the end of it Harry was a bit hard of breath.

"Are you okay, darling?" Pussy asked.

"Okay." Harry said, and he looked up at Pussy, not in a regular way but in a sort of loving way. Pussy looked right back, in a questioning but accepting sort of way.

"Here it is." Harry pushed open his door and Pussy gasped.

"It's be-ootiful, darling!" Pussy gushed. She nearly started crying again but for Harry's commotion as he went to the kitchen and brought out a cold bag of peas.

"Here." He held it gently to her neck, and while he was doing that Pussy had an idea. Unclasping a piece of jewlery, she waited until Harry was completely engrossed in healing her right up and swung it around his wrist, clasping it. Harry looked at it curiously, but pleased.

"What's this?"

Pussy swung her arms around Harry. "My thanks, Harry honey. For taking me in, all up and sudden like this."

"Ah. So you are Irish." Harry said. He held up his wrist, around which was a small silver chain. He smirked.

"Is this how you tell me I'm your prisoner?"

Pussy chuckled. "Actually, it was just a small thanks, but that works just as well." She hugged him tightly, the cold bag pressed between them, and he hugged her back, leaning on his good leg. After a second Pussy grinned.

"Prisoner. I like that."

 **I do hope you enjoyed that! I could continue it...if you guys wanted me to...should I?**


End file.
